[39] Fourth

“And third…” Nihlus says, his voice lowering an almost imperceptible degree at a time, “we’ll take a shower. Together.”

Saren narrows his eyes. This is getting preposterous. But Nihlus just smiles at him from across the narrow table. Brushes a leg against his. Saren scowls and pulls away.

“And last?”

Nihlus doesn’t say anything at first. He fiddles with the topmost card instead, spinning it around and around with one corner on the table and the other between thumb and finger. Saren crosses his arms. They can play this game all day. Or not, considering his terrible luck thus far.

“Last,” he leans in and whispers conspiratorially, “you choose. You can do anything.”

Saren flicks a mandible, unimpressed.

“But especially a blow-job,” Nihlus adds. “Yeah, I like the thought of that.”

Nihlus’ legs are hunting under the table again; Saren can feel displaced air near his bare ankles. He tucks his feet further back. His scowl deepens.

“What is it?” Nihlus grins. “Nervous?”

“Hardly.”

“If you don’t–“

“Before or after?”

“During.”

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